Between a Princess and a Soldier King
by Taima1
Summary: Lothiriel, the pride and purity of Dol Amroth wants to grace the men who fought for her freedom in the only way she can think of, however she graces a different man than she intended, what will he think?
1. Family Honor

_A/N:_ Hey there! I've been reading all the EomerLothiriel fics for a long time and decided to write my own for when I've read all that's new. So I hope you enjoy. Please, if you could let me know how to get the accents over the "i" in Lothiriel's name and the "E" in Eomer'sI would greatly appreciate it. So here is it! Enjoy!Taima

**Between a Princess and Soldier turned King**

**Family Honor**

There was a princess who lived in a majestic land beside the sea. Beside her family's palace on the cliffs of Dol Amroth the waves had crashed for centuries carving the land of Middle-earth. But the stone and mortar of the ancient land were strong, proving the sea's attempts tedious and the lands beside the surging sea changed only little by little over the centuries. During stormy weather the dark, raging sea's raw power contrasted with the smooth and tranquil city of Dol Amroth, but the builders had been inspired by the sea's grace and curvature. The people of the city were dark and fair like most Gondorians, but there was a quiet strength in them that came from living beside the mystical sea of old. Gondorians from Minas Tirith saw them as stubborn, and aye, that they were, but they were a people forever taught to follow their hearts and persevere as long as the sea continued to crash upon the shores, rubbing away at Middle-Earth. They were a humble people as well, all understood that they lived beside a dangerous beauty and respected their lands greatly. The only reason their city had not been swept off the cliff face before was because the gracious Valar were protecting them. So, despite what anyone in Gondor would tell you about the valiant sea-faring people of Dol Amroth, their position taught them many a lesson that is not perceived by others of their kind until many-a-year into maturity they have passed.

Despite the tempests and quick-changing nature of the sea, it was usually quite tranquil throughout the year. At sunrise the sky awakened, slowly changing from the vast black and deep-blue hues of night to a warm gray. Silver spread along the horizon until it created a thin layer between the sea and light gray sky. Princess Lothiriel sat on the wide rail of her white stone balcony gazing peacefully at the horizon. Her feet dangled over the edge, her silken nightgown tickling her ankles. A salty breeze rushed to greet her and her long dark hair sighed gently against her shoulders at its departure. Lothiriel closed her eyes and took a long whiff of the last night wind. When she opened her eyes radiant beams of light shot from the East into the sky and the silver water turned to fire! Oh, how beautiful the sunrise in Dol Amroth! Without further ado, the brilliant sun peaked over the horizon, sending the silver lining skittering into the North and South to mingle with the mists of those far away lands across the sundering seas.

Lothiriel stretched exuberantly and smiled as the sunshine touched her fair face. It was a short-lived smile however, as she felt suddenly a stifling presence behind her. With the coming of the sun, the sky brightened all around– except to the Northeast, where a pall covered the land and stretched it's dark fingers across the sky. Lothiriel had known of its presence, but had refused to acknowledge it on her last day in her home. She was going with her father and brothers to Minas Tirith for the battle against Mordor, and needed the reassurance of her homeland as crystal clear as she could remember it for the dark days ahead.

" Thiri, are you awake?" Amrothos' quiet voice called to her from behind her door. He never knocked this early, it was too jarring if she had been asleep; which she never was.

"Yes, come in Amrothos." She said over her shoulder. Her eyes drifted back across the landscape as her brother walked in, softly closing the door behind him. Striding slowly across the room to the balcony he took in the magnificence of their surroundings as well. The ever-churning sea, the sea grass rippling along the cliffs to the west with the salty breeze, his young sister in her night-gown curled comfortable on the rail.… and that creeping shadow that could not be seen from Lothiriel's balcony, but from his own, which faced North. For his own part Amrothos was glad that his sister did not have to wake every morning noticing that the darkness has spread ever-so-slightly farther across the horizon above the mountains. It brought him nightmares and terrors that he swore never to allow her to know. He was glad that his sister had been given one of the rooms in the house which opened to full view of the sea. She loved it and he would not trouble her about the uncomfortable place his own quarters had become of late.

" It's beautiful." The young prince sighed with wonder as he looked upon his homeland. Lothiriel nodded silently, knowing full well all Amrothos meant with and without speaking. They were closest of all the siblings; the youngest two.

" I only hope that our toils in the North will allow it to remain as it is, and always was….." He breathed quietly, trailing off as he faltered on his own misgivings.

"-For our people." Lothiriel finished and turned understanding green eyes to her brother. She knew her family wished not to speak of the evil of Mordor in her presence, but there was no way around it, and she accepted it as her duty to know the perils of her people. She did not enjoy being treated like she was a young helpless lass. There had been an appropriate time for that, ranging from age one to about twelve, but now that she was grown she felt that it was rather rude of her family to treat her like such a fragile girl. Lothiriel had proven many times over to be a stubborn, loyal, and daring ally in the family arguments.

" Forgive me sister, I have no right to doubt when such doubt could be our undoing." Amrothos said ashamed of himself and frustrated with the hopelessness of the situation. Could they truly beat the Dark Lord?

" You need not ask forgiveness, dear brother." She replied as she took his hand and looked into his sea-gray eyes. "The thought occurs to us all, no doubt. I only ask you to put on your brave face, so that although your heart may be troubled, none shall know, and it shall be sung how courageously the princes of Dol Amroth faced Doom… no matter the outcome."

" Tis a valiant request, Daughter." Prince Imrahil stepped out onto the balcony, followed by Erchirion and Elphir, his two other children. How suddenly he had gotten there puzzled the two young royals for a moment, but they dismissed it as opportune timing nonetheless. He turned to face all his children, " I would ask you all the same. Do not give in to fear, for things have been foretold that have not yet come to pass, yet, let us also have the courage to remain truthful to those we love." As he finished, Prince Imrahil saw how grown his children had become and how they already bore the burden of the battle within their hearts through the grim determination in their eyes. Eyes that he had given them. A silver tear appeared in his eye as he looked upon his children and asked them to be strong. Lothiriel, though usually quiet and watchful, quickly embraced her father as did all her brothers. The royal family of Dol Amroth stood there, upon the South balcony, breathing in the sea air of their home and weeping, that they might never return.

Then, with a kiss upon each child's brow, Imrahil sent his children to pack for Minas Tirith, and when they left him, he stared out to sea until the sun had risen above the nearest peak of the southern march of the Ered Nimrais mountains. His eyes were stormy, yet not fearful.

That was in early February. Since then Sauron has been defeated. The free people of Middle-Earth have rejoiced and Gondor has finally witnessed the Return of the line of Earendil to the throne. With Aragorn came great feasting and work as those who survived the War of the Ring, began to rebuild their lives and countries without the threat of Mordor. This is where the story begins, with hope, as all things do.


	2. A Gift for a Valiant Man

**A Gift for Valor**

The caravan of celebrators from Gondor wason their way to the field of Cormallen for the great rejoicing called by King Elessar, leader of the Men of the West. Princess Lothiriel and her handmaid were getting ready for bed in their blue linen tent. Two Swan Knights stood outside her door, unwilling to leave their posts at her earlier insistence that they not fear. There was no reason to fear an attack, but the steadfast men ignored her and faithfully stood their ground. Lothiriel was glad to see her guards have heart again, her people have heart after so much despair. "I cannot believe you would commit such an act my lady!" Melodine cried in shock at Lothiriel's proposal, "or even_ think_ that it would be appropriate!" she added with wide disapproving eyes. The handmaid was a scant three years older than the princess, but considered herself much older and prided herself on teaching elegant conduct. They had grown close over the years, but Melodine could become stubborn, and took things the wrong way at times.

"Melly, you think I would suggest such a thing out of desire for the king! No!" Lothiriel turned slowly to face her handmaid and explained herself. "It is a great and glorious victory for all of middle-Earth that they have defeated the dark Lord and that Peace and joy may reign freely throughout our beloved countries! It is out of joy and indebtedness to those who fought the face of such evil and stood for my freedom that I wish to do this. You should know better than to assume my actions are guided by rash emotions!" Lothiriel gazed at the woman, honesty and goodwill blazing in her eyes as happened in council meetings when her persuasive diplomatic powers were honed in to serve her people. That passion for fairness had won many new regulations for her people and they adored her for it. Now, her handmaid was trying to understand how her capacity for good had suddenly shifted to wanting to kiss the future High King of Gondor.

"Don't you see? They saved me.."she faltered, looking for words as her body fought to maintain control and her knees shook. "They saved me from having to live in despair. They saved both you and I from a life of fear, death, and misery, a life that would have been no life at all,...from having to eventually face him. They protected our innocence," She locked the young woman's eyes and added meaningfully, " in every sense of the word, by sacrificing theirs." The last was a whisper, but it was full of enough conviction to resound through the tent. There was silence as they both digested the thought, and a new vigor came to their senses. The flowery breeze through the tent flap became a blessed fragrance, the evening sun glistening on the grass outside a wonder to behold.

"It is the least I could do to thank them. The purest expression of my joy and gratitude for their toil on my behalf." Lothiriel finished looking Melodine in the eye once again. The handmaid nodded as the breeze touched her face. Her lady was right, it was the purest gesture of thanks that a woman could give a soldier...but the fact that she had chosen not only a soldier, but the heir to the throne of Gondor, the legendary returning King, sent shivers down the woman's spine. _I do hope he is as understanding of women as he is of war_ she thought nervously as she heated Princess Lothiriel's bed with warm stones from the fire.

Little did Melodine know that Lothiriel, despite her deep feeling that what she had decided to do was the most honorable course of action, could not help doubting herself either. Little was yet known about the King from the North, and the last thing Princess Lothiriel wanted to do was give the wrong impression or offend an unknown future Queen. Worried as to how it would appear to the audience, she began to systematically plan out how to place the most chaste and dignified kiss from her noble lips upon his destined brow.

As the caravan of people and wagons from Gondor neared the victory fields, Lothiriel became inwardly more and more anxious. She would have to be as poised and pure as an Elf to pull the exchange off as smoothly as she imagined and wished it to be. Thankfully, some of their graceful blood ran in her young veins and she was grateful for that slight chance that she might not make a fool of herself and Dol Amroth.

Having stayed in Gondor during the battle of the Pellennor Fields, she had proved diligent in aiding the Healers and even the city's defense behind her Uncle's back, holding down the fort until Gandalf had arrived. The way she conveyed Denethor's messages between posts, and the speeches she made after them had given the soldiers of Gondor courage and determination. Few women yet remained in their walls for the war, most had been moved to the mountains for the battle, but this one, this fair sister from the sea-lands believed in them, and then they in each other. The soldiers accompanying them to the feasting adored her because she had restored their faith in the way she carried herself, the nobility and honor that radiated from her. Because of these things, there was no reason for her to fear reaching the fields, her family and the New King, yet she still felt unworthy to dare.

"I believe it is this air, my lady." Melodine spoke up during the ride suddenly. Lothiriel turned a puzzled look to her handmaid.

"What do you speak of? What of the air? Is it not full of the scent of the Anduin and the wildflowers of Gondor?" She asked, startled out of her own musings.

"I believe that it is the air which makes you so nervous." Melodine smiled at her lady, who only looked even more bewildered, staring piercingly at the air for an answer. Melodine laughed, "Not the air in itself my lady, I mean the atmosphere; you are out of your element. It is this new environment which makes you less steady, although I must tell you that there is no place so grand and marvelous as Gondor, and you should not be nervous, but emboldened to be in your own country travelling to meet your new king and all the great men who fought for you…"

She paused and glanced mischievously at the Princess who seemed to have calmed at her explanation, "even if you are planning on kissing him upon arrival!"

At that the Princess tensed and her features reddened. With a squeal of laughter Melodine galloped ahead with Lothiriel in hot pursuit. The joke was light and set Lothiriel at ease for a while, especially when she apprehended her maid and they shared a few moments laughing in the while they waited for the caravan to catch up. The Swan knights were amused and rather puzzled with their Princess's behavior but were glad to see her smile. Once the wagons lumbered up, they joined the procession and continued merrily on their way. After a few hours riding, the sun past the top of the dome of the sky and moving down along the west, they spotted a clustering of tents with banners and ribbons of all colors flying jubilantly in the wind. They had made it and what a grand gathering it was!

As they neared the encampment Lothiriel's heart leapt to see the soldier's tents; there seemed only about the number of Dol Amroth's own army, not what there should have been for two kingdom's armies. Could it be that so few had survived to see the glorious new days? She felt slightly sick to her stomach and could not help but glance in the direction where the Black gate once lay, expecting smoke to be rising from it. The site of a great battle, with many men….lost… However a crisp Easterly wind was blowing across the lands and any smoke that was rising was unseen and the fires were being put out be special soldiers; which accounted for some of the missing men, but certainly not all.

Outside the main tent and at the entrance to the camp they spotted the White Swan banner of Dol Amroth flying beside its kin, the white tree of Gondor, and their renewed ally of old; the white horse of Rohan. Seeing all three flags made her heart leap; her family was here, and many friends, and she had been silly to doubt.

Many people were rushing out to see the newcomers and a great shout went up as their own Swan banner was seen. Some of the noble houses of Gondor had come in the caravan as well as many commoners, and there were shouts of recognition all around. Lothiriel spotted her father moving swiftly through the camp to meet them. I "Atar! Cormamin Lindua elle le!" She said as he came up to her horse and helped her down, giving her a mighty hug before placing her gently on the ground. Tears pricked their eyes and suddenly fearful she remembered her three brothers, "Where are Elphir, Erchirion and Amrothos? Nothing has happened to them has it?" Her father laughed loudly and hugged her to him again.

"No they are fine dearest. Erchirion got nicked by a small blade and is being attended to as we speak, but do not fear, it is only a minor wound, as his skinned knee a few summers ago, which is why he has only now been seen by the surgeon. The others are with him and will see you shortly." At her relieved smile he was gladdened; for a girl he knew a year ago did not know whether there would be victory or defeat, and now that it had come about all right, he needn't worry for her heart. "All is well now Lothi, how was your ride?"

"It was uneventful, but joyous in that way, and I am so happy to be here to see you and my brothers again, and to rejoice in your victory for middle-earth!" She said as her body threatened to burst under the excitement she felt at that moment.

"Well said." A voice behind her father said, and turning, they saw that it was Aragorn, Son of Arathorn, future king of Gondor. He stood there, handsome features, wise eyes, toil-hardened hands and Anduril at his side, with a joy and peace emanating from him. All the people stood still in awe and Lothiriel stared until she remembered what she had wanted to do. Now that he was before her though, she could not bring herself to move, even to speak. He was all their hopes and the nobility of old, that Numenorean blood that only legends held any longer, and she could not bring herself to do anything but stare in amazement and happiness at him.

"I am happy too daughter, but we all did it, not just I. The Lords Aragorn, and Eomer, and every soldier here including me brought about this victory, and all the soldiers who lost their lives on the Pellennor; they all shared in this and deserve equal praise." Imrahil replied grandly and the people around were still to hear such great men speak and bless them with thanks. Lothiriel noticed now a man of lighter coloring than Aragorn, standing only a few feet beside him, but with an air of importance and a strength and dignity in his eyes that mirrored Aragorn's.

"My Lords, may I present my daughter, Princess Lothiriel of Dol Amroth." Prince Imrahil turned and held her hand as he guided her before the two men. "Lothiriel, this is King Aragorn of Gondor-,"

"I am not King yet, Imrahil." Aragorn said quietly, looking almost sternly at the older man.

"It is more obvious than the sunrise, my Lord. All here know of your lineage! But,... my apologies my liege," he replied as Aragorn fixed him with a look, " Lothi, may I present the future King of Gondor, Aragorn Son of Arathorn, Captain of the Rangers of the North, and leader of the Men of the West." Lothiriel managed to smile weakly at him and he nodded eloquently.

"It is an honor to finally meet the daughter Prince Imrahil has spoken of so much." He said, and sensing her desire to say something waited, looking quizzically at her after a moment. Lothiriel could only fidget and dropped her eyes quickly. Imrahil couldn't figure out what was going on, but thought it best to continue the introductions.

"And now my dear, may I present, King Eomer of Rohan, brother to Eowyn who slew the Witch King of Angmar." Lothiriel looked up at the tall man, who was not so tall as Aragorn but still dwarfed her by a foot. Somehow this man was less intimidating than Aragorn, and suddenly remembering her purpose she strode forward and locked his eyes.

"My Lord I would like to thank you for leading your people and ours into battle and fighting for the freedom of middle-earth. I thank you for facing evil so that I might not have to." King Eomer seemed surprised and bowed his head to hide his embarrassment. She walked slowly up to him and stretching as far as she could managed to place a kiss on his brow. Immediately he jerked his face back up.

"My Lady, it was an honor to fight for you and all of Middle-Earth." He said earnestly, locking her eyes intensely.Suddenly feeling many eyes upon her Lothiriel quickly retreated back to her father's side and bowed her head. Imrahil, whose gaping mouth turned into a wide smile, noticed his daughter's discomfiture and decided to intervene on her behalf.

"My Lords my daughter thanks you with her heart, and my words can do no justice to it. We will leave you till the evening, my family will have many happy reunions thanks to everyone's efforts." He bowed low and regally, Lothiriel following suit beside him, her face low. Only when she arose did she look up, her face clear of all but peace. She looked at Aragorn and Eomer then nodded graciously and departed on her father's arm. Aragorn portrayed no emotions about the whole proceeding but did glance at King Eomer as the Dol Amroth royalty made their exit.

"That did not go as planned at all." Lothiriel murmured to herself. The grass crunched crisply beneath their feet as the cool evening breeze stirred the camp to life in preparation for the feast.

"You _planned_ that? My goodness it was marvelous!" His dark gray eyes bright with sudden mirth and surprise. " It was heartfelt though right darling?" Imrahil turned his daughter to face him, his eyes suddenly serious and firm. She widened her eyes in exasperation.

"Yes father. I wanted to thank everyone for sacrificing so much for my freedom, only I had planned on giving the kiss to Lord Aragorn, but he proved a very ...grand person to behold…. and I lost my nerve. I hope I did not offend Lord Aragorn by giving my kiss to King Eomer. If it were not frowned upon I would give a kiss of thanks to every soldier, but….oh my.. I hope I did not cause a problem." Lothiriel was worriedly talking to her father as he only smiled and led her to their tents.

Her meaning was surely not mistaken, and he had no worries, but there was no way to convince her that what she had done was perfectly fine and diplomatically acceptable– in fact what she had done was purely from her heart and that denied diplomacy from even touching it.

Finally he could take it no longer. "Peace Lothiriel! You behaved yourself royally and did the most honorable and gracious display that has yet been seen between countries and allies." He lowered his voice, looking sidelong at her, then added, "and it will not be overanalyzed. You need have no fear, just keep your intentions pure and let joy guide your actions as you did." With a swish of his blue robes he swiftly kissed her forehead and dispelled her last doubts about the kiss she gave to King Eomer as a gift of thankfulness for Peace.

A/N: Let me know how I can improve this for better understanding and enjoyment! I don't know if there will be more than two chapters, it all depends on my hectic schedule and whether or not I can find a direction to take it. I was inspired to write what is here so far from a painting I've seen in history-books of a maiden in white knighting a medival knight. It just oozes with chivalry, which I love, and I wanted to throw that sort of pure passion into an Eomer/Lothiriel story. Please Review!


	3. Hope from the Sea

**A/N:** It has been far too long. I am so sorry to everyone who reviewed and or read my story and sat waiting and waiting and waiting…… for nothing to happen. I give you my humblest apologies for giving you something and not finishing the job. Here at least is the requested Eomer's reaction. I am thinking of actually finishing ( and doing) this story this summer. But don't get your hopes up! You should know by now I am notorious for being a starter, and not a finisher. Nevertheless here is this and I'm writing more as you read… we'll see if it amounts to anything. Thank you to everyone who reviewed it before! I appreciate you. However I still do not understand how to work the accents on our main characters' names. Is it an html thing or can I only change it once I have uploaded it to the site? Please forgive my technological incompetence. Let me know of any errors or problems. Without further Ado! Please enjoy!

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Between a Princess and a Soldier-King

Chapter Three

The caravan from Gondor had finally all passed their new King-to-be and greeted him with wonder and thanks. Respect and nods of gratitude were passed to all the other high-standing men, and even to the lesser men who had fought. Smiles spread like wildfire and rejoicing laughter from reunited families sprang about the twilight evening with vigor and ease, heartening those in recovery. Peace had come at last!

After the last of the good people had given their thanks and met Aragorn and King Eomer the two men watched them wander happily into the camp to find loved ones. Suddenly, they were unaware as to what they themselves should be up to. They had been in the company of just about everyone that day, as the camp inhabitants often desired to look upon the young future rulers and be gladdened. The evening feasting would begin soon. Aragorn was the first to come out of his wistful reverie and notice his less-than-wholesome odor from a day attending matters around camp. He turned to inform Eomer that they should both retireto make ready for a joyous evening, when he noticed that the blonde king was lost in thought, seemingly watching the very wind pass through the lands about. Indeed, the last rays of the sinking sun emblazoned the stout Rohirrim's armor, the horses shining with life. Eomer's light hair turned to liquid gold, flowing lushly over his back. He made quite a majestic sight, the young King of Rohan; strong, loyal, selfless, and humble. Aragorn was rather puzzled; for his friend did not look upset, actually peaceful, but he also did not appear happy either. King Theoden's death still weighed on his mind, Aragorn knew, but it was obvious when Eomer was thinking of his uncle. His expression nowwas too eased to be of that nature. However it was serious; the set of Eomer's eyes and features, and his absurdly long disregard for Aragorn's gaze, uncommon for the ripe warrior, betrayed him.

"What do you think on, Eomer, that neither smile nor frown sit on your face? For whatever it is, I sense no ill-ease, yet you wonder." Aragorn finally asked quietly. Eomer turned his face upwards and regarded the peeking stars amid the cerulean sky with a sigh. Indeed, what a challenge to put into words all the pride and reassurance that foreign princess had given him with a virtuous kiss. Where to begin? Somehow she had given him proof, given his heart the assurance that he was indeed a good, capable man, and that he was doing what they needed. In her simple gesture his worried soul was told that the world believed in him, and that he would make a good King. How on Earth could he explain? It left him speechless for a moment, before he remembered that it was Aragorn to whom he spoke, and Aragorn could certainly understand. His inspiration came from Arwen. Of course, Eomer realized, things were not exactly the same, but still she gave him hope, and that was what Princess Lothiriel had managed to do.

" Prince Imrahil's daughter, Princess Lothiriel," Eomer began, turning to his friend.

"Kissed you." Aragorn interrupted with a grin, his eyes sparkling with laughter. King Eomer, however, was not impressed by Aragorn's direction of the conversation. He narrowed his eyebrows, and Aragorn recognized a certain hardness come into his dark brown eyes.

"She thanked me for doing what I have been taught, and defending her in the process." Eomer stated flatly. Simple enough, yet he stopped without that lilt to his speech indicating the end. It hung there, this strange sense of hope and bewilderment. The young king had no idea how to put such a immaterial feeling into words.

Aragorn watched him, staring out into the sea of grass rippling in the cooling breeze. He was indeed a young man; inexperienced in wonder. It had been a hard life Eomer had grown into. He was strong enough to live through it, and was a great man in any reckoning. Aragorn understood though, that men of purpose and destiny such as himself and Eomer had been given little to no time to become ponderers of thoughts. Eomer was out of his element, not just concerning his sense of relief, but concerning the entire peace of Middle-Earth. It was certainly going to take getting used to. For both of them.

Eyeing the young man he decided that tooseriously the young king was tromping through his thoughts.

"Enjoyed it did you?" He teased quietly. Eomer's head whipped up and his eyes were afire. " Gondorian women must seem exotic to you my blond friend." Aragorn chuckled.

King Eomer was not impressed. "I assure you my feelings were nothing of the sort. I am only surprised." He relaxed as he noticed how full of mirth his companion was. _The King of Gondor is laughing at me, _he thought with a shake of his fluffy head.

"It is time to wash up and become more presentable. I hold you in the highest regard my friend. Do not fret. You will be a good King." Aragorn said the last looking dead into Eomer's eyes. _How does he always know?_ Eomer couldn't figure it out but nodded gratefully to his friend.

"I do not understand how, but, she gave me faith." Eomer said with a last gaze to the horizon.

"Women are wonderfully good about that, especially Elvish ones." Aragorn said with a sigh. Turning to walk, he missed the puzzled gaze of his companion at his back.

"Elvish?" He asked, catching up to Aragorn and walking alongside him towards their tents.

"The Royal family of Dol Amroth has a streak of Elvish blood in them, yes." Aragorn reached his tent door. Turning his head he remarked with a smirk, " Make's her even more exotic to you." and quickly ducked inside.

The exasperated young King stood outside Aragorn's tent for a few seconds letting his confusion and annoyance diffuse into the light flowing air about him. With a sigh and a chuckle he turned on his heel and went into his own tent to make ready. Even those few steps to the tent beside Gondor's King were lighter than any he had taken since his parents died and he was swept into the whirlwind of Meduseld's problems. The grass on which he tread was resilient and sprang back to revel in the light of the blossoming stars.


	4. Wondering

A/N: If you recognize it, it isn't mine. I have looked into it and learned that indeed the Beornings weren't at the last battle. They showed up in the battle in The Hobbit, at the Lonely mountain, but disappeared after that. So, forgive my goof, but I like the idea of one of them giving a care and coming to help out the rest of the world. So he's in, and I may even develop him if I get the desire. I know this isn't a terribly long chapter, but I'm trying to keep it coming so here you go! Enjoy! Thanks for the reviews!

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**Between a Princess and a Soldier King**

**Wondering**

"My Lords! My Ladies! I welcome you tonight to yet another wonderful feast on the Field of Cormallen!" A brightly-clad young man who stood on a platform called into the cool night air. His tunic was embroidered with the emblem of a shining bear. He was one of the Beornings, come out of the woods to fight at the last stand of the West. He looked thoughtfully around the large pavilion and continued with fervor. "This field is safe again and ours due to the valiant efforts of your soldiers! Your brothers, your fathers, your friends and even strangers! We come together to honor them tonight and rejoice in the knowledge that the Shadow is no more."

The people all shouted in triumph and some wept. After a moment the herald continued. "It is my honor to present to you a group of high and mighty people, without these we would not be celebrating as we are." The room stilled. "May I present the Lord Aragorn, and King Eomer of Rohan. Captains of the West!' The people cheered and applauded as the two men strode into the pavilion. Eomer felt the nerves tickle in his chest. He wanted to turn around and going back to his tent. After waving and greeting their friends already present, Aragorn led the way up the dais to where their table awaited. They stood there, amid more people than Eomer had ever seen at once. Under the soft summer moon the people gazed, all beaming up at him and enjoying the fantastic occasion. They were seeing two kings! New Kings! It was amazing and wonderful.

At a nod from Aragorn the herald addressed the crowd again. "Lords, Ladies! There are more yet! This family took charge of seeing the White City defended and governed whilst our heroes rode off to the Black Gate. May I present to you the Royal Family of Dol Amroth!" At this Prince Imrahil entered and bowed regally to the Kings and then to the crowd. His children followed after him quickly, in a group, but not clinging to their father. They were strong and handsome to look upon. Each wore the bright blue of the sea on a sunny day. The Princes had silver stitching along their tunics and a Swan emblem on their chests. Princess Lothiriel wore a V-necked ankle-length gown of the richest blue silk. At her neck hung a silver Swan pendant and her dark hair lay in a loose half-ponytail accenting her ears.

King Eomer stared as she came in. He wondered about her ears. If she was part elvish, would she have the pointed ears of an elf? He was squinting from the dais when Aragorn glanced over at him. Puzzled he leaned over and asked, "Aren't you young to be peering like a blind old man?"

Eomer immediately straightened himself. He hadn't even realized he was staring as he was. At the thought of explaining his curiosity, he realized that Aragorn would only continue to tease him. It was best to let him think and not acknowledge that he had indeed been staring at the Princess. Aragorn smiled as he straightened back up. _Ah Eomer, probably didn't even know he was staring…._ He thought as he went down to greet the Dol Amroth family. King Eomer followed him after an awkward pause.

"My Lord Aragorn, good evening. I believe this is the first time you have seen all of my family in one bunch…" Prince Imrahil was clasping Aragorn's shoulder and proudly waving an arm at his children. "King Eomer, I know you met the last one of my children this afternoon." He nodded to the blonde King.

"They make a lovely bunch Imrahil, and four fine fighters among you. I wouldn't be surprised to see that the Princess had herself some stunning skill with such worthy brothers." Aragorn said good-naturedly. King Eomer paled. Eowyn. Eowyn had skill, and she had taken it and a will to die to war. His blue eyes clouded and he looked at the Princess. Eomer was aware of feeling fiercely protective of her suddenly.

"Let us hope she does not." He murmured bitterly. Aragorn immediately realized his mistake and turned to apologize. The entire group looked at the young King of Rohan. His dark gaze was on the Princess. She met his eyes and gasped. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. He did not look angry at her, but her heart fluttered. She could not understand where his sudden darkness of mood had sprung from. Without fear she held his gaze and wondered. After a moment she understood. The White Lady. She had seen the pale flower of Rohan upon a bed in the Houses of Healing. Although the healers had told her that this was the King's niece, she had not really believed it possible. From the look on Eomer's face, it was.

Prince Imrahil hadn't had time to brief his daughter on all that had happened, and apparently he had missed a very important piece of news. The Prince opened his mouth to intervene, only to be stopped by Aragorn. Placing his hand quietly on Imrahil's shoulder, Aragorn watched Eomer and Lothiriel intently.

Dark fire still flickered in the depths of Eomer's eyes. Pale and broken she had appeared on the field of war. Cold as death she had been when he touched her. That his dear sister whom he had never managed to protect had found her way into the war and died alone he could not bear. After that he too had ridden with the fell hope for death in battle. But, and here his eyes brightened ever so slightly, she had not died. Prince Imrahil himself had sent her to the Houses of Healing, and Aragorn had called her back. Whether or not she continued to live, or recover was unknown to him. When they made ready to depart for the black gate it seemed that she lacked a will to live. Eomer could only hope that this gorgeous dark woman before him had no such absence within her heart.

The crowd behind them had stilled as they noticed the lack of mirth in their leaders. Something was wrong. At length it was Amrothos, Imrahil's youngest son, who spoke.

"My sister does have skill with a weapon my Lord Eomer, and if she is as courageous as your own sister then the world shall have need for male warriors no longer. Those two together could rise up against the sun itself and find victory." He spoke loudly and earnestly.

King Eomer grinned at one side of his mouth. Indeed his sister had never failed at what she set her mind to. In her stubbornness she would go on for days until something came to be as she wished. Eomer, looking again at Lothiriel, could see that this lady had all the confidence and very likely the stubbornness that Eowyn had. Finally the dark fire softened and the royal people relaxed somewhat.

They stood there awkwardly for a moment. Obviously the worst was over, yet none could find the words to move on. King Eomer looked around and noticed the dark cloud he had cast upon the group.

"My apologies friends. I did not mean to foul the mood of the occasion. Still, I would not allow my sister or Princess Lothiriel out to fight evil while I had a breath in me to protect them from it." Eomer looked directly into Lothiriel's eyes, just for a moment. He hoped she understood. He felt so inadequate at speaking.

"Nor would I." Amrothos chimed in.

"Nor I." Elphir added and Prince Imrahil nodded gravely. Erchirion put his hand on Lothiriel's shoulder.

"Nor I. Nor any of my company I'm sure?" Aragorn yelled with gusto the soldiers in the pavilion to which a great chorus of shouting came.

"Never!" , "Not while I had any say in the matter!", "I'd protect her till the end!"

Lothiriel began to blush. Eomer still gazed at her, hoping with all his might that she would never take the bitter war-road his sister had desired so desperately. Finally, being able to contain herself no longer, Lothiriel turned to the crowd with a smile.

"I thank you, all you who fought and would still fight, for me and your own women!" She curtsied and then blew a kiss out across the pavilion. The men were highly pleased with this. Applause and bows and calls of "Thank'ee m'Lady!" came back from them. Turning back to her family and the two Kings she blushed more and repeated.

"Thank you my Lords, brothers, and Father." She curtsied, still blushing, knowing that she was not supposed to be the center of attention. "Now, if my Lords would lead the way I believe it is not I that this party was set to honor."

Aragorn turned and led the way back up the dais. King Eomer followed behind, and after him Imrahil escorted his daughter. The three dashing sea princes came last, walking elegantly up the white steps of the dais.

"It seems you have a knack for creating …. Hm...situations." Imrahil whispered teasingly into Lothiriel's ear.

"I pray not!" The Princess answered with a blush. They were about to seat themselves when they heard a growling commotion from the tent entrance nearest them.

"Why didn't you wake me up? I told you that I didn't want to be late and yet you let me lie idle until the celebration began!" It was Gimli, howling angrily in dwarf fashion at the tall elf who walked easily beside him as he scurried along.

"I have never had need of much sleep and am not accustomed to how much you, a dwarf should need after such a long adventure as ours my friend. You seemed so at ease I had not the heart to wake you. What if you got sick?" Legolas was laughing and trying to convince Gimli that he was sorry.

"SICK!" Gimli growled, just as they entered the tent. Instantly they were the center of attention. Gimli spun on Legolas and shook his fists at his sides. "SICK! Are you daft? I'm a dwarf! We don't get sick! We are too hearty and strong to get sick! How dare you?" Gimli was winding up in momentum until he looked at Legolas. The tall blonde elf was standing straight and firm, but his face was so twisted with containing his laughter that he could hardly see the enraged creature in front of him.

"I… I am SORRY. Truly I am my friend. If I had known that you would rather risk sickness than be late to one of a thousand banquets to come in these next days then I would have wakened you." He struggled and put his hand on Gimli's shoulder. Gimli still made little annoyed sounds in his throat.

"My Lords! You are late but yet I welcome you!" Aragorn was standing tall and calling to the two who stood in front of the dais. His dark eyes glinted with mirth. "Will you, Gimli son of Gloin, and Legolas Prince of Mirkwood, join us for the feast? You, members of the fellowship, and my friends?"

The people nearest were still gasping and staring at the elf and dwarf– they had never seen people such as these. And to see them together– not killing one another was an even greater shock after all the tales they had ever heard.

Gimli turned and seemed to see Aragorn for the first time. Legolas merely turned his head and smiled at his old friend. The elf looked down at Gimli and the dwarf nodded at him. They bowed together to the royalty on the dais.

"We would be honored to join you my Lord." The fair elf said. Gimli began tromping up the dais, followed by Legolas. Upon reaching the top step he stopped and looked at Aragorn meaningfully.

"Never trust an elf." The three of them began to laugh heartil.

Prince Imrahil made a mental note to ask during the feast about that joke's history. King Eomer smiled as he remembered his own first encounter with the surly dwarf. The three princes, knowing at least the old distrust between the races of Elves and Dwarves laughed. Princess Lothiriel looked around her and knew that she would learn more about Middle-Earth from the people she now sat with than she would ever have imagined. It was going to be an interesting night of getting to know these high and magnificent people.

She looked at the Lord Aragorn and then at King Eomer. He had been looking at her. She did not know why, and she did not mind. His light eyes blazed again with that curious fire of earlier. When she had a chance she would speak to him. She wanted him to know that she had not meant to offend him. Her heart fluttered at the thought of speaking to this strong warrior– the new King of Rohan. It was one thing to kiss, another to kiss and tell.


	5. Expectancy and Fire

**A/N:** Hail my readers! Thanks for all the reviews. I haven't been able to sit and write for a long time. My mood wouldn't let me think happy fluffy things. So! Finally I have gotten this down for you. It is long, though not much fluff. It's a buildup I guess but I like it. Please let me know if you have any ideas! Enjoy and forgive any errors. I have checked, but some sneak through. Please R&R, but foremost enjoy!

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**Expectancy and Fire**

A great white pavilion was set upon the field of Cormallen. The sides were open to the summer evening breeze and torches hung aloft from the beams of the tent. At its highest point the ceiling reached thirty feet. The tent poles were not carved or lavishly decorated, instead on them were hung what fabrics could be found and bundles of wildflowers picked from the lands about. Despite their differences from the majestic carven pillars holding up the Golden Hall, and the smooth gleaming marble pillars of the White Tower, these were strong and beautiful.

It was after taking in these pillars and the shelter erected above the festivities that Gimli began to tell of the marvelous caverns of his people. The mighty halls beneath the heights of Caradhras, which he would not see again, he told of fabled halls through passed-down lore. Ever in his words hung the honey-sweet hope that he might yet behold the grand halls of his ancestors. The listeners at the dais were enraptured by his zealous descriptions and the desire they could see in his eyes, glistening like those crystal walls. All the dwarf-halls he spoke of were grand indeed, until he spoke of the wondrous passageways and underground chambers that hid behind Helm's Deep. It was amazing to see a Dwarf in awe over some other race's work with stone.

Aragorn smiled as he realized just where Gimli must have been; the Glittering Caves of Aglarond. The Dol Amroth crowd could hardly believe all he was saying. Being people from the sea, they never had much interest in being underground or even inside for extended periods of time. They preferred to be out where the sea-breeze could blow on their skin, the crash of waves reach their ears, and the salt-spray leap into their nostrils. In this way they felt connected to the world around them. Staying inside seemed completely absurd. But such craftsmanship as the growling dwarf was suggesting was unknown to them. They very much wished to see the caves after his stirring speech– even if it meant going underground for a few hours.

They were seated around a large white table covered in all manner of food with Aragorn at the head looking out over the entire pavilion. On his right sat King Eomer, with Gimli, who declared he would not sit at the end as a tiny tot next to Eomer, then Legolas last on that side. On Aragorn's left side sat Prince Imrahil, followed by Princess Lothiriel, Elphir, Erchirion, and last Amrothos at the other head of the table. Amrothos was considerably shorter and younger than Aragorn so no-one felt he competed with Aragorn for control over the table. Aragorn was so obviously honored and respected by everyone that Amrothos actually felt invisible until Aragorn's gaze fell on him. Then he felt as if he were on fire. After a while they all got used to one another's company and forgot all about formal etiquette. They enjoyed the magnificent company and were happy.

Amrothos caught Lothiriel smiling as Gimli went into yet another luscious cavern, this one covered in shimmering purple and gold formations. He figured she must be doing some sort of girlish thing like imagining where she would place her mirror and dresser if she could have that glorious cavern as her bedchamber. The young prince smirked and giggled into his wine. That is , until he realized a certain lass back home, who he secretly adored, would also enjoy a piece of shining purple stone. He was sobered a bit, and drank more wine in his sudden melancholy. This of course set him back to being merry, which was just as well since there was no way of him getting any purple crystal for her.

Down on the grass the revelers were finishing their supper. Roast pheasant, mashed potatoes, all sorts of delicious sauces, fruits of Ithilien, breads with nuts, bread seasoned with sage, even sweetbreads filled the tables. Many platters were passed from table to table or swapped as people desired to try something they had not on their table. A few young maidens ran from table to table greeting friends and passing messages. Their laughter echoed lightly over the general chatter and sound of men hooting at one another's jokes. One young lady bounced up to her mother and leaned down to her ear conspiratorially.

"Mother! Arliana's brother says that King Eomer was kissed by Princess Lothiriel this afternoon! In broad daylight! She made no show to hide her affections! Apparently she said it was a sort of Thanks from her to him, as he fought so she didn't have to you know. But just think! She kissed him in front of all those people! It has to mean something more? Wouldn't you think?"

By this point she had excited herself so much she was no longer whispering. Rather, she was yelling and hissing into her mother's now sore ear. Many of the people at the table could now hear what the girl was saying. Most had already heard but a few had dropped their respective utensils and were staring wide-eyed at the brown-haired girl.

"Nirie, you know better than to gossip and spread rumors." Her mother said firmly to her after rubbing her ear somewhat.

"But Mother! Everyone at the North-Eastern side of camp saw! I was-"

"Gossiping." The lady finished for her. "If you yourself did not see it, then it is gossip. What business is it of yours what Princess Lothiriel sees fit to say and do?"

Nirie's chin dropped and she realized that none at the table were going to back her up. "None, Mother. You are right."

Her mother nodded and picked up her spoon to dig back into her pudding. However, Nirie was not yet through.

"I was just excited Mother. What if she does like him? Or he her? Rohan could get a Queen from this! I was just thinking. But I suppose I did wheedle more than I should have. Forgive me mother." She stood straight, nodded to the people at the table and walked quietly away.

The table was awkwardly silent for a moment. Everyone who hadn't already heard about the display on the field was digesting this new idea with interest. Nirie's mother was none-too-impressed with her daughter's loose tongue and apologized to the company for it.

"Say nothing more of it My Lady." A middle-aged merchant sitting across from her replied. "It is the talk of the evening if you hadn't already noticed. Everyone is buzzing with the excitement of it. Maybe she didn't mean anything forward, either way the Princess had quite a lot of courage to do what she did. It is not everyday the noble women prove themselves so independent."

Although it was the last thing Lothiriel had wanted to come of her actions, she was the talk of the night. Hardly anyone knew anything about the sea Princess. But what was known was soon spread around and admired by the revelers. All the young women hoped for Lothiriel, that she would marry the ruggedly handsome King of Rohan. They jittered and ran to and fro with their excitement. Even the older women smiled with a light in their eyes and the men who had known love looked up to the dais thoughtfully.

Every young girl dreams of falling in love and being whisked away with some wonderful, exotic man. Eomer, unbeknownst to him, personified the rugged, gorgeous, stranger from an unknown land that all the Gondorian girls had imagined. Had he known this he would have been terrified. But the girls were overwhelmed with happiness that they might see a romance bloom. This is what they thought. Sometimes they smiled up at the dais to Princess Lothiriel hoping that by their will it could happen. The night was alive with hopes of a great fiery love even before the evening was well settled into the tree-tops or the stars hung properly in their perches.

Legolas sat listening to the three sea princes proudly telling the great people seated at the dais all about their home city of Belfalas. Erchirion was doing most of the talking, or trying to while being constantly interrupted by his other brothers who would suddenly want to be the one to tell this part of the description. Amrothos was most eager, but was periodically preoccupied with his wine. Elphir liked to correct his younger brother on several points at a time. This tendency increased with his wine consumption until Prince Imrahil had to change the topic of conversation. His sons had a habit of trying to outdo one another and this was not the time or place for their quarreling.

The tall elf closed his eyes and breathed deeply. When he opened them, after he had let out his breath, he had a queer smile on his lips. Slowly he turned to look out across the pavilion and saw more than a few heads watching the group with all the eyes shining. His blue eyes moved swiftly to look at the Princess, sitting upright and listening intently to King Eomer's account of meeting the three travelers in Rohan that dark day.

"You are a loyal friend to have drawn to swiftly on Gimli's behalf Master Legolas." Princess Lothiriel said with admiration. Legolas smiled and nodded.

"I could not have my short friend's head hewn off by a short-tempered horseman." He replied drily.

Eomer growled from down the table and leaned over to look the Elf in the eyes. "I may have had a short temper that day, but Master Gimli sure wasn't obliging in his own speech either. I asked for swiftness and was taunted. But I am glad not to have slain before allowing you three to explain your errand. It would be a very different world without you." He smiled and leaned back. "Now, my company and I rode away and three, four days later… Eothain! How long was it since we left these three dirty wanderers that Mithrandir came upon us like lightning on Shadowfax?" Eomer had called his good friend and right-hand man over to help keep the facts straight. Lothiriel and all the Dol Amroth family were listening with awe and nodding periodically. Gimli had gone to see about some ale rather than wine.

The attendants assigned to them were suddenly busy helping move tables out into the night air so that the company might have dancing. As the musicians and minstrels were assembling on the steps of the dais Legolas began to laugh. Everyone turned to him swiftly and stood perplexed. Laughter from a male elf is not oft heard and since Legolas had said so little as yet they all could not understand what was causing his outburst. He was winding down and rather nervously chuckling as he looked up at their bewildered faces.

"My Friends, Lord Aragorn, King Eomer, Prince Imrahil, gracious Princes and Princess of Dol Amroth, I do believe we have a small problem." They stared at him blankly, stock still at his strange behavior. After taking in the oblivious people about him Legolas sighed, stood and explained.

"You see my Lords and Lady, that is just it. It is time for the dancing to start and there are eight men to one beautiful woman. Who is the lucky one to get the first dance?" He finished and sat down. The entire group was silent, and two had gone rather pale. Lothiriel for one had almost forgotten about dancing. She had been having a wonderful time just talking with everyone and hearing about the strange and mysterious lands outside of Gondor. Her fair skin had turned white as the prospect of dancing with any one of the men but her family made her quail. Legolas and Gimli, though not Kings were still grand in their own rights and were far braver, and more amazing than anyone she had yet met, save Lord Aragorn of course. To dance with either of them would give her chills if she could keep her head long enough to get down to the dance area. And the two Kings! That would be terrifying, to dance with men so fell yet handsome. She was not afraid of them, then she was in an impish, unworthy sort of way. At this point she almost felt more like dancing with Aragorn than Eomer, how awkward it could be! Her cheeks flushed and she stared hard at her hands. One of which her father took from under the table and squeezed. This made her feel a bit braver.

_I am a Princess of Gondor. _She reminded herself firmly and lifted her chin. Her eyes met the other pale face. King Eomer had a similar feeling to Lothiriel, though not as magnified by the countless partner options. _All those people! I can't dance with her first. It would be too forward of me to ask. Although I'm sure she's a lovely dancer, I don't know if there was anything more behind her kiss. I don't want to trap her into saying yes when she may not want that at all. No I shall never trap a woman. It kills them. _His eyes hardened again and, to keep his eyes from betraying him to his friends, he looked out across the pavilion to the people gathering on the edge of the now-clear dance floor. The Princes looked from one to another and mouthed things like, "You ask her!" and "No, it's not my place!" while Prince Imrahil waited patiently for one of the worthy young men across from them to gallantly ask his daughter for the first dance.

Gimli came back up the steps and almost dropped his mug when he saw the stretched faces of his companions. "What? Am I not allowed to drink this here? Forgive my savage thirst but ale is much more suitable to dwarves than wine." Legolas looked from him to the group and chuckled again.

"It is not _your_ thirst that worries us my friend." He said quietly when the dwarf had sat down.

"Will someone tell me who has died in my short absence?" The dwarf began growling when they heard another set of feet coming up the dais steps. A tall blonde head with a sheepish grin appeared first and then the rest of the warrior. It was Eothain.

"If it pleases my Majesties and does not offend you fine gentlemen, the people down below are getting quite restless and wish to begin the dancing." He paused and looked expectantly at first Aragorn, then King Eomer. Aragorn sat still hoping that maybe King Eomer would make a move if he so desired. However, Eomer had no intention of moving until the Lady was seen to the dance floor by someone other than himself . In response he narrowed his eyes slightly at Eothain. Unshaken, yet slightly confused, the young man bowed grandly before the table.

" My Lady, may I have the honor of being the first to dance with you this evening?" He asked. Princess Lothiriel gasped at the forwardness of this man. She knew he was high up in the Rohirrim ranks, but usually the highest-ranking man present started the dance. Her brothers also apparently found this unusual but grinned broadly as neither monarch challenged the usurper. Prince Imrahil and Lothiriel glanced at Aragorn and he nodded silently. With a squeeze of her hand Imrahil whispered, "Go ahead daughter, no harm has been done." and a little louder he added, "He was the first to ask and so, unless you are unwilling, you should honor him with a dance."

Eothain's hair shone in the torchlight as he waited for an answer. After a brief pause he heard Imrahil's louder words and had to keep from grinning. Princess Lothiriel got up gracefully, the blue skirt of her dress swishing softly about her ankles.

"If you gentlemen will excuse me," She said quietly. After a grand curtsy and a flourishing bow back the pair descended the stairs, Lady Lothiriel's hand on Eothain's arm. The room exploded in applause. Not so much as if Eomer had been escorting her down, but Lothiriel still had the honor of beginning the dance and everyone was excited to start this new part of the evening.

"My Lady, I hope I am not too forward. I figured if none of those silly men were going to ask so gorgeous a Lady as you to dance then I would certainly risk breaking tradition for the honor." He whispered in her ear as they descended onto the springy grass.

The musicians began a light quick tune and off the pair went. They looked splendid, Lothiriel's dark hair and deep blue dress swirling about and Eothain's stately figure and smiling face leading her over the grass. After the first couple phrases the people felt that the appropriate time had been given the first couple and they began joining in. Though none looked so splendid and brave as Eothain and Lady Lothiriel.

After Princess Lothiriel had left, Legolas went to stand by Aragorn. They had all stood when she departed and were currently watching the pair swirl in harmony across the grass. He spoke low in elvish to the tall grave man beside him.

"If mortals could conjure magic Aragorn, they certainly would have done it just now. It is strange. All evening, it has been growing, they wish for something to happen between the Lady and the new King of Rohan. They are so bent on it that the air is awash with their hope. If they had any power those two would certainly be powerless to stop themselves. I am glad and worried at the same time. I knew not mortals could bend their will so strongly." Aragorn nodded. He was no elf, but he had felt the expectancy building.

"Perhaps it is good that mortals have no magic, for sometimes they are not wise enough for their own good. Also, I should hope that if they find love, it is because of one another, and not because of outside pressures." Aragorn replied and said the last sentence slightly louder that Prince Imrahil should hear. Legolas had known at once that the Dol Amroth family were of Elvish descent but did not know if he could understand what was being said. The Prince looked up and met their eyes with his own gray keen ones. Legolas no longer doubted. Imrahil nodded and returned to contentedly watching his daughter dance.

"What on Earth is wrong with the lot of you, that you couldn'a ask the Lady for a dance yourselves?" Gimli finally asked in exasperation at his fellows. "I only refrained because I figured one of her own kind would like the honor. And look? You've let her be stolen away by someone else! What a yellow bunch of soldiers you are. You'll charge right into Mordor but let a beautiful girl scare you senseless?" He finished his mug and tottered off to find another keg to refill it.

After a moment of silence pondering the Dwarf's harsh words the three sea Princes sprang up.

"Well, if it's alright for him to come up here for her I suppose it's alright for us to go down there to find a partner!" They were gone in a flash of blue and excited cries leapt into the air as they made their ways about and chose partners. Some girls refused out of embarrassment but these Amrothos was able to convince into dancing with him. Soon the grass was a-blur with dancing. The people laughed and sang. Glasses clinked and everyone was becoming very merry.

King Eomer on the other hand was angry. He thought this ridiculous but it would not go away. Standing on the other side of Aragorn he surveyed the room until he found them. Eothain was spinning her and expertly guiding the Princess through the weaving partners. Eomer had never understood dancing. He had never really wanted to dance, it didn't seem to solve any problems. When he was growing up there were plenty of problems and hardly any dances. He was unaccustomed to the general merriment of everyone and couldn't understand why he was so upset.

"It is alright to have fun my friend." Aragorn said into his ear.

"I have never had much time for it. I don't know if I know how." He replied honestly in a low, voice. He felt rather ashamed of himself for not knowing what to do. He had always known what to do in a situation, how to take care of things. This was completely out of his league.

"Just try it." Aragorn urged gently. Legolas excused himself and started a commotion on the floor by asking an older woman to dance with him. He saw no reason why a woman of her age, mid-forties, shouldn't dance. Elves danced until they faded, which took a very long time.

"But what if I'm not good at it?" Eomer asked turning his dark eyes to Aragorn. He was truly afraid. He had no idea what he was doing here at this moment and what he could do with himself.

"Then I shall put you out of your misery." Aragorn growled. This calmed Eomer down. At least his friend would not let him live in shame. Soldiers need that kind of assurance. The two stood there on the top of the dais watching all the happy people below them and felt the whir of excitement in the air floating up to them.

"Why did you not ask Princess Lothiriel to dance with you, Eomer?" Aragorn asked quietly.

It took him quite a while to answer, but when he did he was dead serious. " Because I did not know if I could just dance with her as Eomer. It seems all my moves are watched and calculated." He paused for a moment and then continued, "Because I wanted to. And it scared me. What if there is nothing more than what she said this afternoon? I cannot assume there is more."

Down on the grass the dance was ending and Eothain glanced up at the dais. King Eomer and Lord Aragorn seemed to be deep in conversation and Eomer looked distraught. His dark eyes were blazing on Eothain. Although the young man knew the King's temper well he was not worried about his own well-being. He actually shook his head at Eomer.

"My Lady, I cannot speak for the Lord Aragorn, but I do know King Eomer very well. And I can honestly say that I do not know what got into him that he did not ask you for the dance. I will not ask you to pardon him, but please know that he has been out of sorts lately and I think it has impaired his judgement– for the worse– else I should think he would have asked you before you had finished your first course of dinner." He spoke while looking her directly in the eyes, which she appreciated. Lothiriel found herself believing him, this dashing blond soldier who had risked his reputation to get a dance. Eothain seemed to be a steady sort of man who knew what he was about and set to getting what he wanted. The tune was ending and he dipped her lightly and spun her one last time. She was all smiles when he brought her to face him again.

" My Lady, thank you for the honor and the dance. It has been a pleasure. Should you ever need anything, I am at your service." With that he bowed low and handed her off to Amrothos. Slightly bewildered by the frank kindness of the man, she was swept away by her brother before she had time to think of it any more.

Eothain made his way to the dais and walked slowly up it. King Eomer had engaged himself in a drinking contest with the dwarf. He laughed heartily and joined them. Although King Eomer drank more than either of his challengers, he was not drunk when the game ended. The three stood up and watched the dancers.

"There she is." Eomer breathed quietly as he spotted Lothiriel dancing with Lord Aragorn. Much to the King's horror Eothain heard this and chuckled.

"So you did want to ask her. You oaf, what stopped you?" He demanded as Eomer turned to stare him in the face. His eyes were afire but grave.

"Did you not see what she did this afternoon?" He demanded back of his friend.

"Yes, but that changes nothing." Eothain said matter-of-factly and patted his old friend on the back. " Your uncle would want you to enjoy this victory. We _are _victors Eomer. Enjoy this night, whether that means drinking or dancing with exotic dark sea Princesses."

"We are aren't we? It's hard to believe after so many years of struggle." Eomer closed his eyes and breathed deeply. When he opened his eyes they were alight with a new kind of fire. It was not anger or pain, but it had the same intensity with which he had looked at Lothiriel earlier when he tried to tell her how much he wanted to thank her…

"You are right my friend." Eomer said after a moment's debate. "We did win. And now I will rejoice with everyone else."

"And ask that beautiful Princess for a dance." Eothain added firmly. King Eomer grinned at him, downed his ale, put the cup down, and walked straight down the dais into the dancing crowd.


	6. Magic and Toes

**Between a Princess and a Soldier King**

**Chapter 6**

**First Dance**

**A/N:** Greetings again to one and all! . It's been quite a while. I made myself write three chapters before posting anything so that you would get a good sequence instead of little bits. This chapter is a compilation of two that didn't work without one another. So truly, there are two new chapters.

I am still never sure if I can continue this. Time and inspiration are short. I am working on a general plotline but I wanted to get this far. Consider chapter 5 a happy ending and if you wish to continue the journey with me, this is where it starts. Any suggestions, ideas, comments, criticism and feedback are wonderfully appreciated. Thanks to **Sarahbarr17, Lialathuveril **(I edited the pish-posh bit), **Wondereye, Lady Anck-su-namun, Deandra, LadyArian, EruntaleofRohan, RohanRose, Shadows of Moonlight, lady scribe of avandell, Mystikal19, Verity Kindle **and** heymegalomaniacx. **

Once again enjoy and please review!

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The light scent of chestnut cakes drifted faintly to her as she whirled across the floor with Elphir. Her eldest brother laughed deeply. _Is there a cook here who knows how to bake crisscut chestnut cakes? _Lothiriel wondered as she caught another whiff. Only once had she had such a delicacy, from an elf who was a guest in Dol Amroth long, long ago. Her mouth watered and her eyes lit with the memory of the crisp, sweet, nuttiness.

The brilliant dresses of the women and bright decorative armor of the men spun in a kaleidoscope about her making it difficult to see any one thing well. She was not tipsy, only dizzy with glee. She had not enjoyed a dance like this since her father first took her to the floor one evening when she was six. The pure fun of it, the honor of being old enough to go onto the dance floor, dance with her father, to jump and kick to the beat of the musicians, had been overwhelming then. She had fallen in love with it then and there. It was refreshing to find that it hadn't changed! For a long time she had given up on dances being anything but a worrisome chore of social graces and maneuvers. Lothiriel found it again; that free, joyous, leaping feeling in her heart when she danced.

For several years suitors and eager men had cluttered the great hall in Dol Amroth hoping to catch her affections. Striving so hard to be what she wanted, or sometimes to convince her to be what they wanted. The later she had quickly and bluntly put in place. Over time however, knowing everyone was watching her, knowing she reflected not only herself but her family, country, and history began to weigh on her. Knowing that one false move could change the situation in an instant was painful and heartbreaking to bear. Despite her resolve and caring family, the knowledge had been a burden.

But this! A tear glistened in her eyes as she smiled up at her brother. Dancing with her big brother after so many years of fear! Dancing in a field with the stars above and fragrant grass below! To be here, unrestrained by station, circumstances, and cares- was beyond her dreams! She didn't mind that she couldn't see what was going on clearly. Lothiriel never wanted to stop twirling. Never wanted to leave this place of movement and joy. As long as she heard the laughter and saw the smiles– albeit blurry ones– she was in heaven.

Elphir was having a hard time matching her sudden exuberance but could not bring himself to say anything. _She is glowing. My baby sister is happy. _It was all he could think. Even if he fainted, he decided, he would dance and keep her smiling.

The room buzzed. Lothiriel was singing along to the song of the harpist. Despite the fact that the lyrics he sang were in a new dialect from the northern area of Gondor, she sang what she could figure out and went into Sindarin periodically when she couldn't. The bright twings and twangs of the strings prickled in the air and the singers' melodious voice felt like soft rain to the ears.

Elphir dipped his sister low, her blue dress shimmering in the torchlight. As he brought her up the buzzing of the crowd increased slowly. Some people around the pair stopped and others slowed suddenly. Lothiriel noticed the sudden drop in the mood and merriment, and was startled so much that she snapped her eyes open, just as Elphir pulled her up– into the handsome face of the King of Rohan.

Once again his blue eyes burned into hers. They were excited, and alive, but there was no meanness or dark in them now. Elphir let out a breath.

"I hail the reinforcement from Rohan!" He bellowed exhaustedly. "She has enduring energy for dance. I didn't know if I would be able to go another song!" Elphir turned to his sister and shook his finger teasingly, "You are not supposed to wear out those who are older than you."

Lothiriel laughed a bright, ringing laugh. King Eomer watched them a moment more, a grin spreading across his face at their bantering.

"Princess Lothiriel," the deep-voiced King of Rohan began. The hair on the back of Lothiriel's neck stood up. The room hushed. The warrior sense in him made the King aware that many eyes were on him. His muscles tensed, but determined to attempt this "fun", he pushed out the words, "may I have this dance?"

"Yes, my lord. You may." the sea Princess replied. The air seemed to crackle. A few maidens stifled their squeals of delight. Those of the Rohirrim who had not already gone to the dance floor stood up to watch what their young King would do.

Strumming thoughtfully as he regarded the pair, the harpist noted the awkwardness with which the new King stood. Not blatant awkwardness that any of the crowd, nor the Princess, could see. But to the trained eyes of an entertainer, King Eomer had no idea what he was getting himself into. He most obviously was unaccustomed to dancing.

The blond warrior stood facing the princess, proud yet appalled at himself for asking her to dance. Mentally King Eomer was thrashing the appalled and worried part of himself into submission. Breathing slowly King Eomer tried to adjust his pulse-rate and shut out the last heart-wrenching fears. _It is over. I must move on. I want to enjoy the night. I __**will **__dance. _

King and Princess looked at one another. Lothiriel could see the torchlight gleaming _through_ the brighter blond streaks of his sun-kissed hair. His face seemed to catch light because of it. Although the King's brow was knit, he had asked her. So Lothiriel waited for him to proceed.

Once again gazing at his exotic tawny hair, she wondered how it got so curly. In Dol Amroth women with curly hair occurred mainly when there were days of wet, humid weather. Knowing he lived far from the sea, she couldn't imagine what made his hair twist so. Lothiriel reached up her hand to touch a golden lock that rested on his shoulder. It startled him out of his confusion. Keen blue eyes suddenly pierced the princess wonderingly.

"Oh! I am, .. I am sorry, my Lord!" Lothiriel gasped and pulled back her hand. "I didn't even realize,… oh that was highly presumptuous of me…" She backed away swiftly, her eyes downcast and cheeks flaming.

King Eomer stepped forward. _Is she running away?_ "My Lady, I am not offended."

All those years of trying to convince her father she could behave herself and the first thing she does when asked to dance by anyone worth dancing with is to reach into their personal space. Quickly she turned to look over the crowd, eyes large. Imrahil was actually watching from the Dias, with a full overhead view. He and Aragorn both had been watching. Lothiriel paled. _King Eomer is a foreign warrior. He deserves my greatest respect. _Her panic was swift and her apology swifter.

"My Lord King, forgive me! I should not have encroached upon thee so." She said quietly. Although timid, she stood confidently and met his gaze.

King Eomer almost laughed. "Princess, you have done no harm. I suggested a dance. Surely examining my hair, strange as it is to you, is not scandalous?" She burned crimson and then stopped. The Princess considered for a moment and then she laughed in turn.

"I understand. Thank you my Lord King for being so practical. I promised myself I would enjoy tonight and so I shall." Her smile outshone the moon. Eomer relaxed and beamed right back. The soft fabric of his tunic, unlike the wonderful heavy armor he usually wore, made him feel naked, or maybe it was the Princess.

Deftly the harpist led the music through several slow chord progressions, giving himself time to think, and keeping the attention from focusing completely on the King and Princess. Suddenly his green eyes lit, a smile crept onto his old, hardy face, and he began the intro of a well-known simple dance. That poor King of the Riders was going to have to start small.

Lothiriel was soft under his hands. Never before had he seen a creature that wasn't covered in tough muscle move with such grace . Her hair fanned out behind her when she spun and the candles beyond glinted between strands like winking stars. Midnight hair together with her silvery-blue dress; the Princess was dazzling. She personified the beauty of Dol Amroth.

The crowd marveled at how swiftly the young King picked up the steps and how masterfully the pair maneuvered about the floor. It was certainly not perfect, but all the more entrancing.

King Eomer did not have to clutch Lothiriel to keep her from running through the dance without him and gradually relaxed his hold on her waist. She smiled encouragingly at him and guided him through the next couple of steps. Watching his booted feet to follow her sandalled ones he saw elegant toes peeking from the silver straps.

The King of Rohan chuckled then and the rumbling in his chest could be felt by Lothiriel's hand on his shoulder. Cocking a curious eyebrow she looked up into his face. So smooth a face on such a renowned warrior shocked her.

"I was marveling at your toes my Lady." Lothiriel's brow knit in incomprehension. " Never do I see clean and straight toes. The boots the Rohirrim wear cause them to become less than perfect."

It was her turn to laugh. Of all the things he could have been paying attention to it was her toes he took notice of. The Princess Lothiriel was known in Dol Amroth and Gondor for her beauty and grace. Ever praised for her hair, face, arms, skin and radiant eyes. To think what had caught the King's eye were her tiny toes. The thought was heartening though. Although Lothiriel did not want to think about his praise too seriously his words warmed her. There had been too much seriousness of late, she would just enjoy it. Her eyes sparkled with mirth.

"My Lord, do not the women of Rohan wear softer shoes and keep their feet clean?" She asked during a pass under his arm.

"Nay my Lady. The women of Rohan work hard, maybe harder than the men. Their toes are much the same. And I can vouch for the fact that those of my sister are worse."

Lothiriel's eyes widened and her mouth dropped. "Does your sister know you belittle her feet so?" Then, remembering how serious his face had looked at the earlier mention of Lady Eowyn, she bit her lip.

King Eomer slowed but did not stop. He was quiet for several moments and a few lines of care had slid up his face again. Resolutely he shook his head and looked into her eyes.

"It is the way of siblings to play. I love my sister very much and, always wishing to be a man, teasing was the only way she saw fit for me to show my affection." His voice lowered to a whisper and he spun her close taking time to think through his next words.

"Even if I had been able to stand by her side everyday to tell her, she would not have wanted to hear me express my love for her in words." Lothiriel's fair face knit in concern.

"She is a shieldmaiden, and has always wanted to be independent." King Eomer finished, pride and sorrow at the truth evident in the softness of his voice. Lothiriel carefully looked into his face. There was only a hint of darkness there now. She intended to keep it that way. The pall that had come over him earlier had nearly knocked her over. Another bout of that and her heart would break for this man.

Lothiriel stumbled. _I do not know anything about this man, but my heart does rend for him. Why do I feel this way? _She looked up into his eyes only to find him looking at her.

"Princess, are you alright? Have I gone and trod off those jewels that you call toes?" There was a lightness to his voice but sincerity. King Eomer's mouth was quirked in a tiny lop-sided grin. He didn't want to be grinning if she was hurt. However, the absurdity of possibly having destroyed the toes he'd just become so fond of struck him.

Princess Lothiriel smiled in return. Her heart fluttered in her chest and the spinning of the dancers and the world about them suddenly seemed separate.

King and Princess locked gazes and though they continued to twirl and step in time to the music they looked quite apart from the rest of the dancers.

"My father wishes me to send word-" Legolas broke off his conversation with Erchirion abruptly as King Eomer and Princess Lothiriel silently danced by the dias. Indeed, even Gimli noticed the strange atmosphere about the pair.

"Well, that yellow soldier finally found his guts– and brains– after all." He growled, downing his tankard in silent tribute. The drink was slightly weak for his taste, but Men had strange stomachs to begin with. Legolas, on the other hand, was rather convinced that their friend's courage was waning.

King Eomer was by now positive that he had trod on Lothiriel's feet and she was heroically hiding the pain so that she would not disgrace him in public. The intense stare and the meaning of it worried him. She certainly did not look menacing, but women seldom do before the storm of their anger unfurls. King Eomer began to feel the flutterings of panic.

The harpist had exhausted his tune with arpeggios, repeats, flourishes and flair. King and Princess only stumbled once, but he was unsure as to why their mood had changed so drastically. To end the dance he led the group through the ending a second time and slowed to a warm finishing chord.

No-one moved. The new King of Rohan did not even notice this. Only when the Princess stopped moving did he realize that the dance had ended.

Eomer stepped closer to Princess Lothiriel and looked into her face earnestly. "My Lady, did I indeed injure your feet?"

Grey eyes blinked back. Then sudden as a summer shower Lothiriel's laughter spilled tinkling out. She beamed at him and her eyes danced in a gush of mirth. The spell was broken. People began to move again. Tables were cleared, glasses refilled.

"My Lord! Is that what has kept you so silent? I assure you that the toes of Dol Amroth are strong. Your boots, however, did not cause my feet to lose their place. A thought jumped into my head that confused my feet. You are not to blame at all. Forgive me if I ruined the dance by my faltering."

King Eomer sighed in relief but looked even more puzzled. "My Lady you could not have ruined the dance had you tried. I have never had such an enjoyable dance and shall remember it always."

Lothiriel blushed and looked away. The room had become still again with many eyes not-so-secretly watching the pair. Curiosity hovered in the crowd. The harpist took his cue; avoiding as much awkward silence as he could control, he began a swift progressive dance. Some of the people began to rush to their partners with excitement but the majority were intently watching the King and Princess.

King Eomer was just noticing the lack of movement in their area when Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli strode to his rescue.

"Excuse me, May I have this dance?" Aragorn appeared beside the woman directly behind Lothiriel. Gasping, the lady stepped back and then, face blood-red, forward. Aragorn whisked her off into the swirl of skirts. His tall head could be seen moving about the crowd. Legolas and Gimli soon had partners and Mithrandir was teaching a few young men the steps so that in a moment they could fetch a female and be off.

There was suddenly much less interest in the King of Rohan and the Princess of Dol Amroth than maybe there ought to have been. However both were extremely relieved to have it so. They stood watching Aragorn gracefully weaving with his honored partner until Eomer realized that he had liked dancing.

Eomer of Rohan felt a warm glow of hope in his soul. _Maybe it is not so dark_. _Maybe the Shadow is truly gone. _He turned to Lothiriel with a boyish smile on his face. _I will not have to ask Aragorn to slay me for lack of enjoyment._

"Princess Lothiriel," She turned to look at him better and was instantly drawn to his smile. "You say I did not step on your precious feet?" He looked down at them to be sure the toes were all attached and not bleeding.

"No my Lord. Your booted feet were most gentle." Laughing again, she smiled.

"Well then, since you have not been asked yet, may I have this dance as well?"

Black hair spilled over her shoulder as she tilted her head to the side and beamed up at him. Eomer had a funny feeling in his gut. "My Lord King it would be an honor; yes you may."

Stretching his arm to her Eomer straightened taller with glee and led her to an open space. _Aragorn will not have to slay me. _ Just as he was about to take her waist she bent down to the floor and gathered a corner of her skirt in one hand. A curve of shining silk stretched from the floor into their joined hands. Eomer quirked an eyebrow at this change from the previous dance.

"Oh! Forgive me for not warning you, I must do this so that neither of us trips over my gown." Pearly teeth glinted in the torchlight as she spoke. Eomer stood still, puzzling over her words. As her partner clearly did not think the answer explained the situation Lothiriel tried again.

"The dance quickens and at the last your feet are all about at once. If my dress were about my ankles we would surely only last the first 5 rounds. I like to stay in as long as possible for the fastest pair are quite honored. It is a dance of endurance and skill." Eomer felt his sudden gusto for dancing drain out of him. In much the same manner Lothiriel saw the color leave his face. _I should have known it was too good to be true. Dancing, how could I have thought this was a good idea?_

"My Lord is it immodest in your country? I shall forfeit my speed for your comfort at once. Please-" Lothiriel had begun to panic and babble. King Eomer only caught her attention by squeezing her hand tightly so that she could not drop her skirt hem. Blushing and clearly confused she waited for him to speak. Blue eyes looked at her uneasily, but not unhappily.

" My Lady, I fear not your manner of dancing as much as the lack of skill on my part to match you. I have not danced much, and the idea of speeding up until exhaustion or entanglement o'ertake us is – well– terrifying." He took a breath and looked at her with sincerity. Eomer leaned in to speak in her ear as a couple trounced behind him " I asked you for the dance and I mean to have it, but I ask your forgiveness if I prove a most unskilled partner and must forfeit after a few cycles."

"My Lord King, of course! I just want to enjoy the dance. Tonight is not about winning, the West has already won the best thing in the history of the world– we have plenty of time to grow and learn to win small things now." That was all the talk she allowed before jumping right into the fray of colorful people– at least that was how Eomer saw it.

The pattern was similar to the previous dance and with cues from Lothiriel Eomer made it through the first three rounds. When Lothiriel looked around the room she realized she and the King were doing quite well. Dancing had not been foremost on anyone's mind for a very long time and the lack of practice showed. Even the older folk who were raised in less harrowing times were getting steps confused and stumbling. Gandalf's pupils were among the better dancers moving. Lothiriel wondered with furrowed brow if he was speaking into their minds what to do next. She didn't know what sort of wizardry he was capable of, but had loved him from the beginning. Rather goofy, but proud and keen always.

Suddenly she giggled thinking of hearing his voice in her head, "Right, left, turn halfway, spin her round, hop, right and clap….." Then seeing one who was obviously not born with the coordination needed to move in time, "No you goon, grab her hand, left, your other left, think boy!"

King Eomer briefly glanced up and was glad to see that she was not taking amusement from him. "My Lady, I fear I must appologize for my enduring attentions to your feet." His eyes glittered when she looked back to him.

"My Lord I take no offense," then with a mischievous glint, "There are things afoot that warrant such watching." He grinned broadly and she marveled at how warm he became when smiling. She felt an urge to move closer to such inviting warmth. The warrior's body was tense with concentration– concentration on his feet while his eyes were above, _I mustn't ignore her face ,_ looking at the gorgeous princess in front of him. Lothiriel was startled by how firm his shoulder felt and how deep in his chest rumbling laughter emanated from. She could feel it in her hand.

"Spin. Glide, promenade and – FASTER!" Gandalf chanted towards his pupils as they whirled past him. Eomer made a daring move and swung them into the center of the dance floor. Lothiriel's eyes widened as the other couples swallowed the path. They were stuck inside a cheery, rippling, rhythmic lake. In any direction there could be seen at least fifty feet of speeding, determined dancers. Eomer's grin at having found a more open space fell into sudden resolution.

"My dear Princess, I believe in my judgement I have erred;" His tenseness dropped momentarily and he blushed sheepishly, " there seems no way to escape the dance from this location. I hope you are up for a challenge with this oaf of a partner." Eomer trailed off into silence and his last phrase was almost lost amid the timbrels and flutes.

"My Lord, I am having a wonderful time and would like nothing more than to continue dancing– no matter the circumstances." The dark woman replied quietly. She looked into his eyes and leaned in to remonstrate him on calling himself "anything less than her finest dance partner." Little did he know that she truly meant it. King Eomer laughed and led her off to the next flurrying notes– faster than all the rounds so far.

"Well, so far he hasn't sulked off or -" The Rohirric captains were talking quietly in their own tongue. Eomer was their champion, and their friend for long years. All of the Rohirrim had been anxious as to how King Eomer would fare under the new "lighter" mood. Whether he would at last find peace or ….

"been dark." Eadric finished for the others. "In fact I do think we may have to fight him to let someone else have a turn with that Princess from the ocean."

Eothain raised his eyebrows at Eadric– a silly old goat of a man– and continued to drink in silence.

"She isn't from the _ocean _you mooncow. Dol Amroth is right next to the Elves in Rivendell. _They_ live in the ocean." This came from one of the Eastemnet men. How he came to this novel knowledge was beyond the other captains but it was at that point that Eothain decided new education guidelines were in order– with special emphasis on geography and foreign relations. He was about to pipe in when the man continued.

"The elves could turn some of themselves into fishes. They swim for miles out in the ocean– no legs, they lose their legs! Then when they come back to shore they change back." His words were met with groans from the other captains, but unfortunately, impressionable ears were eagerly listening to the older captains. Younger warriors learn from old and soon a whole group of the newer Rohirs were listening wide-eyed.

"Sea-people? Elves are sea-people?"

"Of course! How do you think they came over in the first place."

Eothain groaned and added boating and basic swimming to the education reforms. Now that the war was over, he could tackle problems facing the people every day– like ignorance. This brought a smile to his lips. The golden-haired group had become so enthralled that they were arguing in Rohirric. Many of the nearby people, Gondorians and other southerners were beginning to look concerned. _We look highly suspicious arguing in our own tongue at a joint celebration. How easily old suspicions are brought back to life. That rascal Gaidraen, we are supposed to be merrymaking, not debating elvish lore. _

"My dear Gaidraen, I am fascinated by your story. However I am puzzled by something; if the elves lose their legs, as you say, every time they change, and there are so many of them, shouldn't there be many, many bones lying about on the shores? Leg bones?" Eothain looked around and was pleased to see that in this case the lack of certain knowledge was helpful– his men knew nothing of tides, or sharks or other ways in which these bones could have been disposed of. He chuckled. Gaidraen looked angrily puzzled and the rest of the fair-haired warriors sat about with knit brows.

"Well, I know one thing for sure! That princess has elvish blood in her." For a moment the young men blanched and reeled to see their King dancing with that very woman! But standing between the dancing pair and the frightened warriors was Lord Aragorn, looking keenly at Gaidraen. In perfect Rohirric he replied, "My fiance is Elvish, as are many of my friends. Including Legolas who fought beside you. Have you forgotten already? Do not speak in fear of the unknown– we have just defeated fear. Do not invite its return."

"Yes my Lord. Forgive me." Gaidraen managed once Aragorn's meaning finally hit him.

People were truly beginning to become disturbed by the cloistering of Rohirric men and the clear seriousness in Lord Aragorn's voice. After a few moments of silence Aragorn took a deep breath. Grandly in the Common Speech he invited them back to the celebrations, back to remembrance and joy, back to the stars, and smiles, and things that were given to Man long ago.

When some of them did not move Eothain stood, drained his mug and said to them in Rohirric, "Come, if she can change into a fish that is her own business but so long as she has legs to dance with the King I will not be worried. She dances very well to have to train new legs after every swim."

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Gaidraen– from Gead meaning "mockery" and Raen meaning "counsel" 


	7. Contenders and Rescues

**Between a Princess and a King**

**Contending and Rescuing**

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10!_ Lothiriel squealed inside as King Eomer spun her through the first steps of the tenth round. His eyes were shining. Even though she could see, and feel, the sweat on his body he looked resolute. It had taken a few rounds but the radiant blond warrior seemed comfortable with the steps now. 

_Tenth round! Ha! We shall beat those slowpokes. And that fat nobleman with the red cap– he is wheezing quite hard now. _King Eomer thought with a grin. Up he darted his piercing blue eyes to the Princess' face. The King's mouth was quirked into a half smile and she laughed. Eomer wondered at the way his muscles relaxed at the sound.

Aragorn had retrieved his partner after speaking with the Rohirrim and was now stepping lightly to Eomer's right. Legolas was moving with such ease that his partner seemed to be floating– the elf made her dancing look superb. Having an elf accompany you can do that. The dwarf, who had excused himself from the gracious company of his partner, was seen atop the dias calling for more ale. Eomer chuckled at the small bearded fellow and pointed with his head to show Lothiriel what amused him. The sight of the dwarf once again growling for a "more earthy" drink was too much. The fair nose of the most beautiful woman in Gondor wrinkled and her eyes glinted as she laughed aloud once more. _How strange, I thought women with wrinkled faces were ugly and spent. But with her nose wrinkled the Princess looks more alive and beautiful than anyone else. _

King Eomer was just leaning in to speak in her ear when the four Sea Princes stepped onto the floor with partners. The light-haired warrior's jaw dropped in shock as the crowd cheered their start on the dance. He began to slow and looked at Lothiriel with eyes wide.

"My Lord King! We cannot slow down now! The competition is fierce!" Her voice rung with the increased thrill of rivalry. Using their clasped hands she pulled him back into rhythm.

"Do they not understand? If this is a dance of endurance then they have cheated us! We began at the beginning and have steadily continued, but their strength is fresh!" King Eomer's hand tightened slightly on her waist and his eyes shone with disbelief.

"My Lord King, as long as they can keep up they are allowed to enter whensoever they choose. I would wager my ruby necklace that the only reason it took them so long was that they interviewed the maidens to find the swiftest partners. My brothers are very competitive." Lothiriel explained. Eomer's face fell for an instant in frustration. Then he clenched his jaw and spun her wide. As she came back he spoke quietly near her ear, "I would wager that their sister is also competitive from words I heard her speak. If that be the case then she and I should have a good chance of besting the knaves."

Lothiriel smiled broadly and looked into the King's eyes. There was a strange fire there, but she was not frightened.

"I am." She conceded and then on the last step, "We do."

_11!_

Faster and faster the pairs stepped, now kicking , now prancing, now clapping as they twirled. Although the minstrels were having a grand time trying to outdo one another in speed and flair the harpist could feel his fingertips begin to throb. _Prick, tap, prick, gliss….. _He knew it would not be long before he had to take a break to run ointment on his abused phalanges. Looking once more out across the floor he noted with satisfaction that he would not have to stop before the winner was found.

Prince Imrahil was just excusing himself from his partner at the edge of the floor. The Lady he had danced with was an elder healer just come from Minas Tirith. She had spunk but both she and Imrahil were past their prime and left the floor honorably after a few rounds. There was much cheering and applause.

Although Amrothos was youngest, and spryest of the Dol Amroth princes at intervals he lacked a fundamental understanding of rhythm. In most dances he was superb, however, when the pace quickened he could not adjust nor order his limbs to move along. So it was that only a round after Imrahil escorted his partner from the whirling crowd Amrothos' partner ran into him, sending him toppling backwards. Unfortunately, in his confusion he grabbed her arm and down she went as well. If not for Legolas they might have been trampled; for once their heads went under there was no telling where in all the colorful movement they had drowned. With a push Legolas spun his partner through a sudden gap in the crowd to the outer edge and ducked down to the tangled pair. In a moment he had them both standing and was able to direct the flow of dancers away long enough for them to escape. Amrothos' partner glared at him but her eyes shone as she beamed at her elvish rescuer.

To the joy of the onlookers, and chagrin of Amrothos, the pale elf bowed graciously to her before taking his leave. Gimli had found a knowledgeable server– meaning the lad knew where the ale was kept– and had enlisted him as a personal valet for the evening. The poor boy had a list of other people he was supposed to look after but the insatiable dwarf downed entire mugs in the time it took the boy to refill previous ones. After fifteen minutes of this, sweat began to tingle the lad's forehead as he realized that he was trapped by the most cunning dwarf he'd ever met– never mind that Gimli was the first dwarf he'd ever met.

Legolas came upon Gimli sitting on the polished wooden steps of the dias.

"My friend, does not drinking alone bring sorrow to your heart? You would better enjoy your ale with a friend I think." He pulled up two chairs and called for a glass of wine. The pair began to talk of all their adventures. As the conversation waxed Gimli's drinking waned. The young lad saw his chance and took it, dashing off into the crowd after delivering a final brimming mug to the now oblivious dwarf. Legolas smiled lightly at this. In his mind he added a tick mark– _3 mortals rescued tonight._

"I'll never forget the rush Gandalf was in to get to Edoras despite the fact that he took his time in finding us, let alone revealing himself as our wizard and not Sauron." Gimli grumbled.

"I doubt that you could call him 'our wizard', friend Gimli, for even now he is away who-knows-where. Only a moment ago he was down on the floor and now he has vanished." Legolas replied, scanning thoughtfully across the pavilion.

"For once, it seems, that I can claim greater knowledge than you, my elven companion! Prepare to be awed by the wisdom of Gimli the Dwarf." Eyes like flint glinted keenly beneath the dwarf's bristling brows. "You seem to have forgotten our insatiable pack of halflings. Frodo and Sam, praise the Valar they are alive, were worn after the festival yesterday afternoon. Meriadoc and Pippin joined them and the four talked long with Gandalf; catching up on one anothers' adventures. I am certain that they are either sleeping, eating, or still prevailing on Gandalf to set straight what happened after the Fellowship was broken. And in his turn I am sure Gandalf is scolding them about resting."

Legolas laughed, "Gimli, although I believe your thoughts are correct, you cheat by saying that they are either talking, as you suggest, or eating or sleeping– for do they not pass most time with food – tired or no? Nonetheless, I miss them. Gandalf cannot be winning them over to rest, they are a stubborn bunch. Would you care to visit them? Perhaps our tales would settle them so that an earlier bedtime than last night's will be won."

"Aye, that sounds much more appealing than watching the Men any longer. I am no dancer of Waltzes, but in my home under the mountain I turned a few eyes with my friends at our Harvest festival. Dwarvish dancing is altogether different. Besides, I miss the mischievous hobbits. For all I know, Merry and Pippin could be lost again. It's best we go and keep them company." Gimli, mug still in hand, stood and tromped down the dias and out of an arched doorway woven with wisteria.

Legolas followed him after a last glance at the buzzing mortals. It was still there, but thankfully, mortals held no true power over one another. If anything happened between King Eomer and Princess Lothiriel it was up to them.

"13!" The Beorning lad cried from atop a chair. His face was flushed with excitement as he pounded his thigh to the beat and eagerly followed the dancers with his eyes. Many couples were only barely keeping from falling behind. The rhythm of the steps could no longer be discerned as men mis-stepped, women lost shoes, and gowns swished to and fro. Gandalf's pupils had fallen out for the most part. A determined Gondorian infantryman reeled out to the edge of the floor, tried to swing back into the dancers, but could not change direction and took his red-haired partner through the spectators and over a stool. Thankfully no-one was hurt and the lady only laughed.

Prince Elphir, nonchalant, hadn't even broken a sweat yet. Dark eyelashes and a green gown distracted him somewhat from his feet, but his maiden partner was very quick and the pair seemed invincible. The other Prince of Dol Amroth on the floor had picked a partner with great strong legs, not that she had given him a look, but he knew it from the firm kicks he received often on his shins. The girl was too fast, passing his speed continually and wounding his body in her excitement. As the pair surged past, Lothiriel heard Erchirion almost hissing between clenched teeth, "One– Two– Three– Four– Five-Six-And-Se-Ven Eight…."

Eomer and Lothriel had both stopped talking; all concentration was on movement. Lothiriel didn't have to nudge him in directions anymore. He had the steps down and moved with confidence. His warm hand almost burned her waist although his touch was light as a bird. The tent was hot. Falling from the stars, the evening dew had cooled the company for a while, but as the activities became more intense so did the heat.

Eomer, King of Rohan, a land bordered by snowy mountains and Northern marshes, was not used to heat. Summer winds and hot, hazy, grasslands, but not the stifling heat of bodies and thick air. As he became more aware of just how hot it was his lungs began to demand air. Breathing deeply, his body rejected the stale, already-breathed gas invading it. _Focus! We must not lose to those cheaters!_ But even as he thought it and glanced up into his partner's perspiring but confident face, his left foot collided with her right. The force of the blow spun her away for an instant, and in his panic he yanked her back, just as she attempted to regain her footing. Lothiriel threw her hands out in front of her and closed her eyes as she careened through space– right into the solid chest of Eomer. _This cannot be the floor, it feels hot. _She opened her eyes, and allowed the world to stop moving. _Why aren't I on the floor?_ On her back were Eomer's sturdy hands. Quickly she flicked her eyes up to him. Wide, dark eyes stared down at her. His chest was heaving under her gripping hands. Around them the dancers continued to whirl. Lothiriel sighed.

Eomer frowned and his hands tensed on her back.

"I am sorry, my Lady. My blundering feet have ruined our dance." Scanning the area he looked for the safest route to escape the floor.

"Eomer," Dark eyes hit hers. Uncertainty wavered there, Lothiriel saw it. "Forgive me , my Lord-"

"You may call me Eomer." She could not read his face other than seeing the firm set of his mouth and those piercing eyes. "What did you wish to say?"

"I had a wonderful time, and I was ready for the dance to end. Do not blame yourself for anything. It was the most enjoyable dance I've had since….." Lothiriel's brow furrowed as she tried to remember. She couldn't. The sea Princess whispered, "...ever."

Something dark left his eyes then. Never knowing what it was, the Princess gently squeezed his shoulders and smiled. The noise of the watching crowd came back to them then and Elphir spun dangerously close with a wink at his sister. Obviously he was enjoying watching the competition drop like flies.

Once again becoming aware of Eomer's labored breathing, Lothiriel asked, " My L– Eomer, are you alright? You are quite warm." Eomer only nodded anxiously and gazed with longing at the arch leading into the cool darkness of the summer evening.

A way opened up for the pair as a couple on their right forfeited. King and Princess made their way quickly to the watching crowd and the overwhelmed Eomer continued with purposeful strides to the exit and out into the blessed night.

* * *

**A/N: **Well, school starts next week. I'll do my best to write more. R&R please. I want to know if you like it, hate it, are frustrated over my lack of a schedule etc. Any ideas are welcome. Thanks for reading and have a great day! 


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